


Take Me Slow

by cobalamincosel, speckledsolanaceae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Groping, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledsolanaceae/pseuds/speckledsolanaceae
Summary: “What got you all riled up?”“Mark groped my ass and I felt antagonized.”(what Johnny and Mark get up to in the stairwell after "NCT 127 High School Baseball Team EP. 2")
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 48
Kudos: 342





	Take Me Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Neither of us expected this to be our first collab, but here we are. Enjoy! ♡

It's later in the day than the lights in the practice room suggested, so the stairwell is dim. They’d lagged on the pretense of helping grab everyone’s things from the lockers, but the box of perfumes and snacks and whatnot sits on the ground as Johnny exhales against the shell of Mark's ear and thumbs Mark’s belt open, one thigh between both of his. He’s sequestered Mark into a corner that forces Mark's shoulders forward in a protective hunch.

“When did you start getting so bold, Mark?” Johnny breathes while Mark's hips jut forward, the belt coming undone.

“Would you believe me,” Mark huffs, “if I told you I wasn’t thinking?”

Johnny breathes a laugh, nosing at the side of Mark’s face to urge Mark to tilt up for a kiss. His fingers stall on Mark’s button, fingers curled into his waistband where his shirt is still tucked but his skin has started to heat.

For a moment, they’re slow, the space made artificially small and intimate by the way they’re slotted into each other. Johnny takes his time unbuttoning Mark’s pants in the midst of the kiss, unzipping him tooth by tooth as Mark starts to squirm a little against his leg and leisurely pace.

Mark tugs on the front of Johnny’s shirt and breaks the kiss. “You gotta go fast, though, hyung. what if someone sees?”

“Would you really mind that?” Johnny pushes against the touch, chest to chest, crowding him deeper into the corner. 

“N-no.”

“You groped me in front of the cameras. I think a handjob where any of the boys or staff could see is a fair exchange,” Johnny reasons. It isn’t exactly, but this part’s almost a game. If someone really did come up the stairs, Johnny would cover Mark up as fast as humanly possible. 

But this—where it’s late and almost everyone on this side of the building has started settling down, he knows how to tease that tiny lick of exhibitionism out of Mark that complements his own. 

They’ve never gotten caught before, and Johnny’s smart enough to keep his wits about him so that it never happens. Skating on the razor’s edge always seems to get the both of them going in a way that is unmatched by anything else they’ve experimented doing—not with toys or blindfolds or anything else. He’s lucky that Mark likes this as much as he does. (He’s lucky that Mark likes _him_ as much as he does.)

Johnny raises his fingers to untuck Mark’s shirt to just a whisper of a whine, and Mark’s breath shudders as Johnny slides his hands up against his bare skin under his shirt, over his ribs and up until the cloth is bunched against Johnny’s wrists. Mark burns a flush against his fingertips. With his shirt up, Johnny witnesses a pleasant view of the swell in his white briefs.

“God, look at you,” Johnny says in wonder, looking down to where he drops a hand to palm at Mark’s half-mast erection. “Hard for me already.” 

“It’s not a difficult thing to do, hyung,” Mark laughs breathlessly, gasping when Johnny squeezes harder. He slides his hands up Johnny’s arms, sweeping his fingers under his loose sleeves, calluses dragging on his skin.

Johnny lowers his leg between Mark's and slips his fingers under the waistband. His knuckles bump up against Mark’s crown and Mark sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as Johnny feels out the shape of him, coaxing him erect until the head of his cock kisses the thin trail of hair under his navel. 

Mark shifts, shy under his touch, and Johnny steals a kiss against his cheek, earning himself an amused but tight exhale while he pulls down on Mark’s waistband to give himself more room.

He watches Mark’s face as he pushes down just enough to expose his hip bones, thumbing at the jut of his hip as he slides his hand down further. He reaches, cupping his balls to watch Mark gasp and bite his lip again, eyes flicking back and forth between how Johnny’s watching him and how visually exposed his crotch is—curls and scarred frenulum and gentle curve all out there, only hidden by the way Johnny stands carefully between him and the open air of the stairwell landing. 

For a moment, Johnny skates the tips of his fingertips against Mark’s perineum and Mark reacts like a live wire getting stroked, reaching up to grab Johnny’s shoulders near-bruisingly in embarrassed protest at how thoroughly he's being groped ( _payback_ , Johnny thinks), cock twitching where it touches Johnny’s wrist.

“Hyung—ah,” Mark says. “Hurry.”

Johnny hums, amused, bringing his hand up to wrap around the base of Mark's cock, his thumb stroking over the head, precum smearing over it and slicking part of the way. Mark breathes easier, tense in a different way, though, at this more familiar brand of attention and sensitivity.

“So impatient,” Johnny says before taking the shell of Mark’s ear between his teeth and savoring the way it makes Mark shiver. 

Johnny almost wants to drop and just get through this the faster, less spunk-riddled way, but they’ve done semi-public before and knows that if Mark’s too out in the open—if it’s not Johnny acting as a shield or vice versa, then Mark gets too fidgety and nervous, even if the consensual threat will work on him just enough to get him flushed.

So he focuses on twisting his wrist the way he figured out just recently makes Mark go up on his toes and whine something breathy through his throat. Mark’s skin slides less the more he fills out, velvety and heavy and hot in Johnny's palm. So easy to arouse in a stairwell after being called out for being horny. Of all places.

Johnny takes a moment to pull his hand away, making Mark whine low and petulant, so he can spit in it and bring it back down to wrap around Mark’s cock, and there it is, the way so much smoother as he tightens his grip on the twist up. 

Mark always starts to get noisy when he’s getting worked up, something Johnny usually relishes in, but not here where every sound echoes too loudly. Johnny brings his lips to Mark’s, swallows the mewl that escapes him, and feels Mark slip his grip down and hold tighter at his forearm the faster Johnny strokes him.

He lets Mark pry his lips apart and explore his mouth with his tongue, Mark desperate as he tenses and shudders like some pretty, lithe thing in Johnny’s grip. He's unable to multitask quite well enough to french him back while bringing him to the edge, but Mark doesn't seem to mind.

Mark drowns his whimpers in Johnny’s mouth as he makes a smooth ring with his fingers at Mark’s base, stroking with the hard bone of his thumb pressing up the vein on the underside of Mark’s cock. It makes Mark choke and strain while Johnny palms at his flushed and leaking head.

When he’s wound up like this, Mark won’t last long, which Johnny likes to attribute to his technique since under other circumstances, Mark usually holds out longer than Johnny does. It's all warm breath between them as Mark’s jaw goes slack, his scream silent and caught in his throat as Johnny works his hand over Mark’s weeping cock. 

“Hyung, _fuck,”_ Mark mutters, already on his tiptoes, his flushed neck on display for Johnny to latch onto with his lips. Mark swears all the time, but there’s something so much more delicious and satisfying in the way he can render his boyfriend’s vocabulary to nothing more than “fuck.”

“Does that feel good, Mark?” Johnny asks. It’s not necessary, he can hear the barely-concealed desperation in Mark’s low whining, and it’s clear that he’s about to tip over the edge, but Johnny kind of likes hearing Mark trying to choke words out.

“S-so, so good,” Mark stutters, his chest heaving. _“Hyung_ —”

He doesn’t really warn him except to dig his fingernails into the skin of Johnny’s forearms, and it's fine because his hand is cupped over Mark’s head anyway to catch everything. Mark tilts his head back into the corner, almost as if on purpose to let Johnny scan over the scrunches of pleasure in his face, the pretty slack of his mouth after he lets his bitten bottom lip go.

Johnny kisses his chin and holds him steady with his clean hand as Mark sinks into the corner, his come-down sigh sweet and boyish.

One of the lower-level stairwell doors rattles open and the moment ends so abruptly that Johnny almost gets whiplash. He tucks Mark back in with his jersey out over his crotch—Mark still flinch-y and lagging—and angles his body one step away so it doesn’t look like he just made out with his…colleague. Best friend. (Partner). The works.

“What about you?” Mark mumbles, clearly trying to pull himself together, words slurring a bit as he seemingly tries to speed through his afterglow. 

Johnny’s aching in his pants but the sound had squashed most of his arousal, too worried that their manager would come looking for them, or worse, some stranger will find them in the most incriminating position and talk. 

“You can make it up to me later,” Johnny jokes, pressing one quick kiss to Mark’s sweaty temple. “Come on, we’ve gotta get going.”

Mark’s goofy smile makes Johnny snort and tug Mark by the hem of his loose jersey.

“Earth to Markie, hey, snap out of it,” Johnny laughs.

“Sorry, God, my legs feel like jelly, hold on,” Mark says, pushing off from the corner he’d been tucked into.

When Mark bends to grab the box on the floor, Johnny still leans to tap Mark's ass and smooth a quick touch down the back of his thigh. Mark does a full shudder with a laugh, resting the box on his hip momentarily to land a light punch against Johnny’s abdomen. 

They have to gather themselves into a semblance of composure, though, when a staff member finally reveals themselves and takes the lower stairs two steps at a time. They pass the two of them quickly with a small nod, and Johnny’s a little grateful Mark rushed him because he has _no_ idea who that was.

Mark gives an enormous exhale, then brightens up, the slowness of an orgasm already shifting over to spryness while Johnny still feels a little like molasses. “Let’s go take care of your campsite,” he says in English, dipping out of their corner for the lower stairwell. “And your hand.”

“My _campsite,”_ Johnny nearly wheezes as he follows Mark. Like _yeah_ he's tenting his pants, but Christ that's an innuendo twice-removed. He honestly cannot believe half the shit that comes out of Mark’s mouth sometimes. “Mark, that sounds terrible.”

Mark laughs and Johnny anticipates the point in which he can reel him back in and kiss his laughter breathless, in the safety of Mark’s room when their manager leaves, or when Donghyuck decides to leave their room in favor of drifting up to Taeil’s. 

When Taeyong sees them approach the van, the box of things in Mark’s arms and Johnny’s hand resting gently on Mark’s neck, he takes one look at their disheveled appearances and rolls his eyes. 

“Disgusting,” Taeyong says, though not unkindly, and pulls the van door open wider with his foot. 

Johnny shrugs, unable to contain his laughter. “May I beg for a wipe?” Johnny near-wheedles, and Taeyong gives a shudder—all laughter for the most part. Their manager is outside the van talking to some of the staff in all business tones, so, like Johnny had reasonably suspected, they hadn’t kept anyone waiting. Thus, Taeyong’s reaction is performative for humor’s sake alone as he pulls out one of the two packs he always keeps in his bag for a cleaning wipe.

While Mark murmurs a light apology as he lifts himself in and squeezes past Taeyong’s legs, Johnny thanks him and scrubs away at his palm.

“What got you all riled up?” Taeyong asks under his breath, quiet enough that their manager doesn’t hear as they approach. Mark slips in between Doyoung passed out already against the van window and Haechan hunched over his phone, and Johnny hefts himself in past Taeyong in the second middle seat.

“Mark groped my ass and I felt antagonized,” he mumbles as he settles down, scrunching the wipe in his palm. He feels a flick at his earlobe from Mark, leaned over the box in his lap.

“Taeyong-hyung, can you blame me?”

Taeyong opens his mouth to say something, exasperated endearment settled into his expression, until their manager’s in the van and everyone’s mum.

What’s in NCT stays in NCT. No one has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> anne:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/speckledsolana)  
> [curiouscat](https://t.co/zW26zmaxzw?amp=1)
> 
> m:  
> [carrd](https://mochiseo.carrd.co/)  
> 


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